No More Platform Shoes
by Jynxpixie
Summary: AU. Sam has dyed her hair strawberry blonde, has never met Danny or Tucker, and is friends with Paulina. Oh, and she's a star! She's still the Sam we all know and love, but what happens when she gets sick of the life she's lived and goes to find another?
1. Chapter 1

Okay…in this story, Amity Park is near Hollywood. And not everything is researched. And I'm sorry if it's choppy or something. This story is AU and for fun! Enjoy :)

I apologize if characters' personalities are odd. I tried to adjust them as best as I could and even then I may have failed. Also, sporadic updates. Inspired by the song that plays on the credits of the movie "Mulan 2".

And by the way, this story will switch between Sam's point of view and third person perspective. The latter will happen when Sam's not around.

Disclaimer: I'm not male and over 20. Therefore Danny Phantom and affiliated characters, logos and such are not mine. *sob*

* * *

I ripped off the shoes as soon as Valerie closed the door behind us. _Finally_. "If I have to wear one more pair of these absolutely ridiculous platform shoes to another red carpet event, there is going to be blood," I muttered darkly.

"Not according to your contract with White Stag," Val reminded me.

I laughed. "Forget the contract. They can sue me for all I'm worth. I refuse to wear another one of these absurd shoes again!"

"Yes! We shall burn them all in a bonfire to celebrate their riddance!" Valerie announced dramatically.

I shrugged, losing interest in the conversation. We were talking about _shoes_. "No, I don't think I can do that. Not unless they were bio-degradable." I kneeled on the ground to shove the accessories under my bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

My cell phone rang loudly, and I jumped, hitting my head on the frame. "Ow!" I yelped, pulling my head out from under my bed. I looked over at Val, who had the offending piece of technology in her hand. I flipped my dyed hair out of my face so she could get the full force of my glare.

"Put in on vibrate next time," she advised, trying not to laugh. I swiped it out of her hand and answered it, putting it on speaker.

"Hullo. Whoever this is, please tell me it's important, because you just gave me a sizable bump on the back of my head."

An accented giggle came over the phone. "Oh, Sam."

I coughed.

Paulina is usually not someone I would get along with. No, if I had met her in a schoolyard and I was just a regular girl, I probably would've told her that if she were a puddle it wouldn't be deep enough to get my feet wet.

And I don't think she would've understood what I meant, either.

But the thing is, we're not regular girls. We – being me, Valerie Grey, and Paulina Sanchez – are 16 year old national celebrities. Paulina's a Latina beauty, a model and small time actress that can hit plenty high notes and starred in a few operas before she climbed the metaphorical ladder to success. Valerie and I are singers and actresses, though Val is higher up on the list than I am, for which I am grateful for. I've seen the way she's been chased by crazy fanboys and the admiring fangirls who want to be just like her. It is NOT pretty. And not a spot I would like to occupy.

Paulina, on the other hand, relishes it. She was built for this life, just like my parents. It was my parents who had us meet in the first place, making sure I was at the same social event she was. So how are we friends?

Let's just say that with a very unlucky situation with a crazy party, a tiny closet, too much peanut butter and a flying cupcake, you kind of stick with that person who was in that situation with you for life. Paulina may be shallow and sometimes mean, but we have each others backs.

Which is good for her, because I am not a person you want to be enemies with.

"Yeah, Paulina?"

Her simpering laughter once again created a tinny whining in my ear and I held the phone a little away from my face. "I just decided I wanted you at an event with me."

"I dunno if I'm up for it, Paulina. You know I don't like –"

She interrupted me. "Sam, you absolutely have to! Both our _mamas_ would be truly upset if you turned me down. It's a red letter event!"

_And I don't have a say in the matter._ I sighed. "A what?"

"I don't know." Another giggle. "Just something fancy and important."

Valerie gave me an amused look and I just turned away. I really didn't want to go. And Paulina was right – my mother would not be happy with me. Not that I cared too much, but when my mom threw a fit the paparazzi was all over it and I was once again the rebellious spoiled star child.

I really hate the continuous spotlight.

"Please, Sam?"

I saw Valerie shaking her head vigorously out of the corner of my eye but I only said, "Fine. I'm not staying for more than an hour." If that.

She squealed and I was suddenly glad I was not next to her for the surely bone-breaking hug she would have awarded me. "You're the best! I'll see you in ten."

My jaw dropped. "Ten _minutes_?"

A giggle. _Beeeeeeeep_.

My face fell into an arrangement that would be associated with the word 'misery'. Valerie shrugged when I looked at her, and walked over to my bed to get the shoes I'd shoved under it only minutes before, holding them up. I took them harshly in an attempt to show I was still spirited but she wasn't fooled.

"You need a vacation."

"I know. But you can't vacation from a celebrity status."

Valerie's face was suddenly mischievous and I frowned at her. "Just get ready," she ordered me, sweeping to my closet. She tossed dark skinny jeans and a short lavender dress onto my bed. "Neutral. Paulina can deal if it's not elegant enough."

Valerie doesn't have much patience for Paulina. I can't really blame her.

* * *

The flashes would blind a normal human being.

I'm a normal human being, by the way, but I can pull off wearing shades at night, so I was able to survive as Paulina gripped my arm to pull me out of the limo and down the red carpet. "Why are we here again?"

Paulina sighed as though truly saddened by my ignorance. "Sam. It's the MTV Movie Awards!" The Latina expertly darted around a reporter who had broken through security bounds, causing yours truly to teeter dangerously on these - _ridiculous_ - shoes as Paulina continued to lead me to the building. "And you've been nominated for your performance as –"

No. You did not drag me here for this.

"– Jenny Greenley in _Teen Idol_ – oy, _chica_, I'm still jealous of you for that," she giggled. "Anyway, your mom wanted you here, so I –"

Urgh, _traitor_.

"– naturally got you here. Besides, you'll enjoy yourself for once, Sam! Always hiding out in your place, no wonder you're so pale."

"Because your skin is so flawless, Paullie," I said dryly, feeling bitter.

Wait. "Never mind," I snapped, when she looked at me amusedly. "I cannot believe you took me here! I'm fine with coming to support my friends, but for _me_? You _know_ I hate this – "

"But you're going to win this time," she insisted.

I rolled my eyes at her. I never win. I love acting, but the parts my mom gets me, allows me to audition for – they're horrendous and I only agree on small parts. Jenny was a main character that I could stand but one could so easily tell that I could be so much more.

Biting my lip, I wondered. Could someone tell? It's not like they've _seen_ my best. "How do you know?" I inquired of Paulina, deciding to humor her.

The tall girl simply tossed her hair. "My sources are very reliable, hun."

I bit back a sigh.

"Samantha Manson!" she gasped, pointing at the platform heels I had on. "You _have_ to tell me where you got those absolutely sexy shoes!"

_Let the torture begin._

* * *

It turned out, I did win.

For _Best Chemistry With A Supposed Love Interest That Was Not Really A Love Interest_.

Who knew they even had that award? And for the record, it's nearly impossible to not have chemistry with cute guys who insist on being mannered, nice, and chivalrous like my co-star Carter Howard.

Although I tried _really hard_ not to. I even went to the point of hitting him and yelling at him for opening the door for me (and it was quite a lengthy rant) just to try and get him to buy the witchy persona the media had forced upon me.

Carter merely thought I was amusing and invited me out to coffee. Boys. Though he's not that bad a guy – he went on stage and accepted the award without me. The only pictures of me anyone got were those of me arriving and leaving.

Which reminds me. I left two hours ago.

I'm not home yet.

"Paulina, why are we at the Nasty Burger parking lot at two in the morning?" I said icily, rubbing my feet. I'd taken the shoes off but my feet felt murdered. Not that there was any evidence. _I'll get you, Platforms. I'll get you._

"We're waiting for Danny Phantom." Her tone was hushed, eyes wide.

I glanced at her, realizing I was treading in dangerous waters. One always was when Paulina was focused on her obsession. "The ghost boy?" As far as I knew about him, he had white hair, a simple uniform, and was always saving Amity Park – with much damage to the city.

But you don't say anything against Danny Phantom near Paulina.

"Yes, the ghost boy! His patrol always take him here." She looked absurdly hopeful. "Eventually."

"Paulina."

"Yes?"

"When was he supposed to be here?"

Her hopeful expression did not waver. "Forty five minutes ago."

I sighed, rubbing my temples for the suddenly blooming headache. I had to be up in six hours. "He probably got involved in a fight and then went home to sleep."

Paulina seemed offended. "Ghosts don't sleep!"

"How do you know?" I raised my eyebrows at her.

She looked stumped. "Because, erm, they're dead?"

I gave her a look and she slumped in defeat, telling the chauffeur to drive us home.

As we pulled out onto the street, however, I was granted with a squeal from Paulina and I looked out the window to see Danny Phantom himself flying leisurely past. He looked tired.

I leaned back in my seat, a smug smile on my face. _Ghosts SO sleep._


	2. Chapter 2

What? What is this? _Am I actually updating before the year _*COUGH* I mean,_ week is out?_

Yes, yes I am, and don't get used to it because then I'll screw up. Luckily, I'm writing out a plot map, so things should be speedier.

I really, really hate writing Sam being a celebrity, under the thumb of stereotypes and unneeded pressure and just being forced to _not be her_. It just….ugh. Let's just say I can't wait til the escape plan is put into action.

* * *

"Sammy-kins!"

I brought my pillow to cover my ears. That voice was entirely too bright for eight in the morning, honestly. But Pamela Manson, my mother, was quite the bright character and had been so for the sixteen years of my life. That wasn't about to change.

Unfortunately.

"Oh, Samantha dearie, wake up already."

Grumbling, I punched my pillow and sat up, giving her my death glare. Despite the fact that I've refined it to a nearly perfect state, she was not affected. That might be because she was the one I got to practice on. _What'd I'd give to sleep 'til three._

I let her drag me upright into a standing position (because I would certainly not do it voluntarily), closing my eyes when the curtains were opened into my dark room. I wish I could say the sun was entirely too bright for eight in the morning, but I can't really go against nature.

Just, did it have to be so bright in _my room_?

I got a glance of my wardrobe for the day and my lips set into a tight line. I used to put up a fight when she picked out what I was going to wear for the day. Which doesn't happen exactly often, but too often for my liking. Besides, I kind of promised not to make such a big deal about it as long as the circumstances had all of the following three requirements.

One, the outfit picked could not be too revealing. Too revealing at _my_ definition. Two, absolutely no shade of pink, or combination of two or more bright colors. And three, she would not pick my outfits more than six times a month (though I had to let her do it those six times). Luckily, it's a written and legal agreement, so she can't disregard any of the terms. Unluckily, it's a written agreement, so _I_ can't, either.

My mother bustled around, already on the phone, making use of the Bluetooth feature. I tuned her babble out, going to change out of my pajamas and into the red and blue striped dress, slipping on the strappy red platform shoes.

_I have way too many of these._

Suddenly my mom was behind me, still talking incessantly as she put on a gaudy necklace. You know the type. Long chain and an excessively large, colorful pendant. Some like jewelry like that. I don't.

I suddenly felt kind of…disheartened. There had to be something I liked about my life. Right?

* * *

Danielle Fenton is a go-getter type of girl. She knows what she wants, short-sighted she may be (at fourteen years old), but nonetheless she knows how to get it. The girl is stubborn, smart, incredibly curious and maybe just the least bit whiny. One way or another Danielle can usually get her way, either by wheedling, pouting, or even cunning scheming.

Just...not this time.

"Please, Jazz, _please_," Danielle begged, quite literally on her knees in front of the redhead, who had an eyebrow raised. "They won't let me move out of the attic unless a responsible older girl rooms with me, and I know that they mean you! It's so stuffy in the attic, and Danny's so loud at night – either because of his nightmares or just his _snoring_ – and I've saved up to help pay for the apartment I picked out and I'll even continue to do stuff around the neighborhood to pay for my part of it! Please!"

Jazz nearly fell over when Danielle lunged for her leg, clinging to it, having no concern for the lack of dignity the motion bestowed as she looked endearingly up at her surrogate older sister. "Please," Danielle pouted. "I've thought it all through logically. Your parents are all for it, they'd have more storage room with both of us out of the house, and with you going to college in a few months when school starts again, it's like taking a step ahead of the game!"

Jazz sighed, shaking her leg lightly. "No offense, Danielle, but it's hard to take someone's 'logic' seriously when that someone is holding your leg like it's their only lifeline."

Danielle sighed, letting go and standing up as Jazz continued. "I swear, with Danny it's the horribly written puns and with you it's the drama. You really know how to go over the top." Jazz then put her hands on her hips in true nagging fashion and Danielle just grumbled.

"It usually works," she muttered under her breath, folding her arms in a neutral gesture as she waited for Jazz to give her completely logical, thought through rejection.

"I really don't think it's a good idea," Jazz said gently but firmly and Danielle slumped. "Yes, I will be going off to college, but us in close quarters – close _living_ quarters – is nowhere near a good idea. I'd drive you crazy with my studying, and my need for everything to be perfect and routine. _You'd_ drive _me_ crazy with the nightly patrols and your natural messiness and disorganization." The eighteen year old shuddered. "You could not pay me, Danielle, I'm sorry. I love you, but –" Jazz nearly said "It's like asking me and Danny to live in the same room" but decided against it and instead continued with, "It just sounds like an absolute nightmare. You've thought quite a lot of it through, and I commend you for that, but just not…all of it."

Danielle, nodded, looking dejected, and Jazz gave her a hug. It was times like these, times when Danielle had tried just about everything she could do to do something and still fail, that she would reflect on a constant, positive thought that had been put in action since her thirteenth birthday.

_At least I'm legal._

* * *

I went to breakfast with my mother and agent at a diner after a stressful ten minutes of getting my blue color contacts in. It wasn't a busy morning; only two other customers were there, a lady and her daughter, and judging by their lack of reaction they don't know me.

For which I'm thankful for. Not only would I hear my celebrity name "Sammy Manson", but I hate having to ask for privacy or any kind of V.I.P. treatment for my personal comfort. Although…

I looked at the little girl. She looked ecstatic as the waiter gave her hot chocolate, using the spoon at the table for to eat the whipped cream as the beverage cooled off. Maybe…maybe I wouldn't have minded being in a picture with her, if she had asked. It's not like this kid had done me any wrong…unlike my cousins. Good thing I don't have to babysit. I wrinkled my nose at thoughts of using my celebrity status like that. Of being like that. Yeah, it's normal. It just feels…so…not me. Almost egotistical.

Actually, it is egotistical. I'm thinking that I'd give this kid a picture or autograph if she wanted one and she hasn't even spared me a second glance.

My head hurts.

* * *

"Pamela, the greatest opportunity just popped up less than a week ago –"

"No, Simon, no, we already went over this two hours ago on the phone –"

Back and forth. On and on. I'm only here to mediate and with them cutting each other off every sentence it's not like I'd get a word in edgewise, which is just fine with me.

So far.

I looked across the restaurant at the little girl again. She and her mother were sharing a small cake. Well, a mildly sized cake; they'll probably be taking a little home. It looks pretty good….it looks really good. It looks like a really deep chocolate, with a pink filling – strawberry, I suppose. That frosting looks perfectly applied to the dessert, not spread thin nor layered upon layer.

I do believe I just spied an Oreo cookie atop that cake. Screw it.

As the same waiter from earlier passed by, I waved a little to get his attention and he came over. "Yes, miss?"

"I'd like what they're having, please?" I said politely, pointing to the mother and daughter.

He glanced over and nodded. "Yes. Should I…" He glanced at my mom and Simon, who were so busy conversing they hadn't even noticed I had moved. "Inform her that the slice is being added to the check?"

I shook my head. "It's fine. And…" I hesitated. I'd never done this before. "Instead of the slice, can we have the _whole_ cake? Like that girl?"

"_Samantha!_"

I cringed as I turned toward her. Her tone was entirely offended, which meant either she was about to have a reason to pitch a fit, or I was. "Mom…"

"Oh no you don't! Samantha, the notion is absolutely ridiculous. _A whole cake?_"

I sighed. The waiter was still there, waiting to see if the order was going to happen or not. "Mom –"

"Even a slice is questionable, you silly girl." Even Simon was looking at me in an almost disapproving way. "No. Absolutely not. It doesn't befit your image." And she turned back to Simon, continuing whatever they had been talking about.

I fumed, and this time I interrupted her. "_Excuse me_? It doesn't _befit my image_? It's just a freaking cake, and it's not even that big! You can't tell me what to eat and not eat _every single time_ I want to indulge myself! It's not like I'd eat it all at once, I just want to taste it, and therefore I _will_."

My mom once again turned to me and this time she looked thoroughly amused as though she were talking to a very young child. "Samantha, don't be spoiled. No need to be cranky. It's just a cake."

I immediately shrank at that.

The waiter walked away, a smile on his face as though he completely understood what my mom was going through. I could practically hear his thoughts. 'Teenage divas, I swear they're all the same…'

This…I cannot believe this. The one time I stand up for myself, in public, no less, I'm made out to be a spoiled brat. My mom runs a lot of my life…is it too much to ask that I get some of the reins?

The anger resurfaced in my head. Not just _some_. I should be able to choose the parts I act. I should be able to choose what I wear, _every_ time. _I_ should be able to choose where I want to go and where I don't want to go.

And you know what, if I want to eat a whole cake, I should be able to!

I glanced once more at the table across the diner and the anger left me when I saw that little girl looking at me with a small frown. Every little trace of indignity I felt disappeared when this little girl, this little girl I don't even know, looked at me as though she was disappointed. As though I should know better.

Then I faintly heard her say, watched her mouth form the words, "Mommy, is that Sammy Manson?"

I jerked my head away, feeling sick to my stomach. Suddenly I don't want any cake. What an example to set for the younger generation I am.

I really need that vacation. Maybe…a permanent one. Whatever I like about this life: the thrill of acting, fame, money, convenience, none of it is worth this. Valerie was thinking of something last night, something to get me that vacation, and I'm going to go talk to her about it.

I just really hope it works.


	3. Chapter 3

This is a couple hundred words shorter than the first two chapters but I hope you enjoy anyway. It's kind of a filler chapter, and I feel as though the characters run dry in a part of it...it might be rushed, the escape scene. I feel much more comfortable with drama than action. But I'm okay with that. I'm human. Besides, maybe you disagree with me ;)

* * *

The day is over. And once again I have a headache. Luckily, it's nine at night, not two in the morning, and I am in my room with Valerie, not in Paulina's limousine waiting for the girl to spot her long-time obsession.

Though it was rather amusing. I mean, Paulina could hook _any_ guy. It's hilarious, the puppies they become in her wake of seduction. Not that I can blame them – she is beautiful, even I can admit that. More than my girl next door standards could stand up to, but the thing is, my Pretty Plain Jane looks keep me out of the spotlight, and her in it. Score one for Manson!

Wonder why Phantom didn't like her. It's so…odd. Maybe he was playing hard to get? Who does that for two years? Maybe ghosts just…aren't attracted to other people. Or humans. Or maybe he's just gay.

_Or maybe they had a secret affair, ghost-boy ditched her and she's stalking him to try and get him back!_ What better way to say "I care about you" than to follow their every move? Or…attempt to? The thought was sardonic and amused me further.

"Girl, what are you murmuring about ghosts, affairs and stalking?"

I jumped and flushed. "Nothing," I murmured in response to Valerie, who was digging through my closet. My thoughts sounded like one of those tabloids I would throw in the recycling bin.

Oh, crud, I'm becoming one of _them_!

Valerie laughed at whatever look was on my face, walking over next to the bed. "I have to admit I'm going to miss you."

"That's more than my mom would say, I'm sure. My dad might own up to it if you can ever get him out of that library."

Valerie grimaced at me. "You ready for this? You ready to leave it behind?"

"Leave what?"

"Sam…"

I looked at my shoes. My platform shoes. I would never have to wear them again and I suddenly had a huge grin on my face as I stood up beside her kicked them off. The both hit the wall, making loud noises – and I didn't have to care because my mother was at some sort of bridge tournament.

"I love acting, Valerie. I love pretending. Going to another world, being in another world, on camera. But it's turned into my _life_ I'm pretending, and I, am, _sick_ of it!" And I laughed, long and loud and it wasn't long before it was accompanied by Valerie's rich laughter.

_Bring it on, world._

* * *

"Step one," she said, joining me in my bathroom, holding a bottle without a label. It was uncapped and it was a few seconds before the fumes reached me. I gave her a suspicious look. Unnatural man-made chemicals….I tend not to trust them. She continued despite my expression. "I'm going to make you into someone unrecognizable. This will remove the dye from your hair."

I grimaced. That liquid was going to _touch_ me. "I'm sure that there's something in there that's going to give me cancer, or kill a few million brain cells –"

I cut myself off at Valerie's impatient look and sighed, closing my eyes tightly as a sign of resigning myself.

* * *

Part two of step one was quite simpler and much easier to trust. Color contacts were thrown away. For good. In a Nasty Burger dumpster; they'd think I'd taken them.

_All_ of the supply. No longer did I have blue eyes, no longer was my hair strawberry blonde so I looked like I was related to my parents. My eyes were their violet selves and my hair was once again black. I was surprised by my reflection every single time I looked in the mirror. I kept repeating my thanks to Val, in awe, and she promptly told me to shut up. "The gushing is seriously weird."

She brought me to the computer and showed me a bank account balance online. "Know what this is?"

I looked at the ID on the screen. "G.O." was what I saw. "It's my hidden cash advance for Teen Idol, under the code name."

"Goth One? Really, Sam?"

I just smirked at her. "Why are you showing me this?"

"So you can embrace that name." She laughed, closing the window and then deleting it from browser history. "You're not taking any of your clothes with you. You're buying a completely new wardrobe, and this will cover it easily. And all your clothes will be completely your own."

This was sounding better and better.

Valerie sat in the computer chair and I leaned against the desk as she continued speaking. "As for a place to live, leave that to me. I have papers and identification for Sam Manson, purple eyes and black hair, so Sam's your new name. Okay?"

I bit my lip. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Fake ID's are illegal. The ID's you have right now are fake, Sam, these are as real as they'll ever get and you know it." Valerie didn't look happy about it either, though, and she changed the subject. "Obviously the account isn't a bottomless pit that you can get money from anytime you want, so you'll need a job – especially with having to do the apartment on your own."

I nodded. "With you so far."

"You have an interview with a cross internet café, coffee shop next week." She handed me a black, sleek flip phone. "That's your new cell. Your number is in your contacts under 'Me'."

"Valerie, I don't understand."

She frowned. "Did I say something to make it confusing?"

"No, just…" I didn't really want to ask because I wasn't sure I'd like the answer. "This stuff takes planning. It takes connections. How do my parents, my agent, not know about this? How long have you been planning this?"

She stood up and started walking back to my room, and I followed. I walked through the door to see her looking through papers in my desk drawer, focused, and I waited.

"I've been planning ever since you were cast as Jenny. You barely tolerate being in the spotlight, and suddenly being the heroine in a movie would push you over the edge, so I contacted...my dad…he's not much for the Hollywood life style. But he's always supported me." She got out the papers and I wanted to laugh – she'd hidden them in the chaos that was my disorganization. "His boss, the man who owns the lab he works at, was able to get them for me. For you," she corrected herself, handing them to me. "We can go shopping tonight for your wardrobe and tomorrow I'm going to drive you away from here."

It sounded final. And her somber tone scared me. I was supposed to be excited. "The…the chauffeur won't snitch?"

"_I'm_ driving you, silly." She winked at me. "You're not the only one with a properly earned driver's license."

I looked at the papers.

"Oh, and you have a car. We'll have a proper cover story for where your family is by tomorrow."

"Please tell me the money to get all this was taken from _my_ accounts." I looked at her and the answer was written in her face and I just had to hug her, so I did.

She stiffened at first – I was probably the person she knew that was the _least_ prone to physical contact, let alone physical affection. But then she hugged me back and I knew what I'd miss about this life. "I'll miss you. Laughing at me when I do something klutzy or my mouth runs ahead of my brain."

"And I'll miss you, giving me the death glare whenever I do so," she laughed, breaking the hug. "This isn't good-bye. You'll see me. More often than you think."

"Promise."

She put her hands up as though surrendering. "I promise."

"Tell Paulina I'll drop a call sometime?" I owed her that much at least.

Her nose wrinkled and she grumbled, "Sure."

I grinned widely at her and she grinned back. Then I was struck by a thought. "Don't…don't you wanna come with?"

Valerie shook her head. "I have my issues, Sam, but…this is me." She chuckled despite herself, shoving me playfully. "It just isn't you."

* * *

I was packed. Everything was in the dark blue Prius that was somehow mine. Tracks had been erased – security systems disabled, cameras out for the day…and my mother was once again at Bridge. It had to be today. Preferably now.

Valerie waited expectantly in the driver's seat, hair in a bandanna and sunglasses covering most of her face.

I took a deep breath and got in on the other side. Valerie smiled. "Impressive. I was expecting more of a display of emotion."

I looked at her, confused, picturing those sobbing girls in other movies when they leave home, and she laughed. "I meant more of a 'GOOD RIDDANCE, SUCKERS!'"

I chuckled uneasily. "I can't get caught."

"No. No, you can't, but you will be fine. You're a brilliant actress."

Staring straight ahead, I said firmly, "I'm leaving to _not_ act."

I saw her smirk in my peripheral vision and I took another shaky breath, turning the radio on as we drove away.

* * *

The apartment complex we pulled up to looked perfect. Perfectly normal, average, and inconspicuous. We parked and got out of the car. All I can recall is a blur – I signed papers, and Valerie did most of the talking.

Honestly, she's…pretty good at that.

My friend led me to it, because for some reason it was as though my legs had trouble carrying me around on their own. Putting the key in my hand, she looked at me expectantly, and I put the key in the lock, turning it and creaking the door open.

I think Valerie and I both just about had a heart attack, because someone was waiuting in the apartment for us. It was a black-haired girl, said hair pulled back, in a blue sweater and red shorts, looking a good two years younger than us. Her electric blue eyes were glaring at us as she snapped, "Who are you and _why are you here_ in _my_ apartment?"

* * *

Oops. It looks like in all of Val's scheming, she let something slip. But on the other hand – Dani now has her roommate.

Danielle will star in the next chapter, and we'll finally get to see Danny! It's basically the same timeframe that happened in this chapter, leading up to that same moment. Also, as for Danielle being legal – Val isn't the only one with connections. I promise all will be revealed.

However, if you have questions, feel free to ask so I don't space on them as I write. It's easy for me to forget the difference between what I know about this story and what my readers know and questions will keep me focused.

Thanks to all of you who have reviewed!


	4. Chapter 4

This is my first time really writing Danielle. And this is my first story where I write characters that have to have some form of continuity. Please be merciful.

* * *

Danielle decided that if Jazz wasn't going to be her roommate, she had to find somebody else. Someone older, female, and that she could convince Jack and Maddie was responsible. _I can totally do that,_ she thought, optimistic. Danielle knew she didn't have many girlfriends, but she would succeed in her mission, somehow.

* * *

_How do I not have ANY friends that are female?_ She wondered as she sat on her bed in the attic, attempting to write down a list. So far, there were three names.

_List of Girls I Know I Can Ask To Room with Me_

_Jazz_

_Star_

_Ashley_

Unfortunately, none of these were real options. Jazz had already turned her down. Star was the queen bee, a junior at Casper High, the school Danielle went to, and the blond was an extreme brat. Danielle had no wish to room with her – she'd rather stay in this attic. As for Ashley, she had been a friend of Danielle's, though they hadn't been close enough that Danielle had shared with Ashley her half-ghost/clone status (though she did with Jack and Maddie). And unluckily for Danielle, Ashley had moved to Arizona last month. The fourteen year old had considered flying to that house to overshadow Ashley's parents to let her come here and let them be roommates together, but she would get in big trouble with Danny for that – plus Ashley wasn't "older and responsible".

_I need more girlfriends._ She didn't understand it. In every single chick flick there was, when it wasn't about hopelessly out casted preteens, the girls had at least three best friends they could go to about _anything_. Danielle wasn't hopelessly out casted. She should have more people to count on. Especially when the people she was counting on couldn't be counted on.

_CoughJAZZcough._

Well, that was unfair to Jazz…she had good reasons for denying Danielle's invitation. But that didn't help Danielle.

The girl got up and turned ghost, the blinding white ring separating into two around her middle as one went up and the other went down to reveal Danielle Phantom and her mischievous expression, the list laying forgotten on the bed.

_Time for desperate measures._

* * *

Danielle determinedly flew through the ghost zone, hair flipping out of her face. She looped away from Skulker's island, in and out of Klemper's realm, and eerily through Clockwork's tower. It took her a while before she was able to find the ghost she was looking for – though Amorpho was always tricky to find.

Her plan had been to ask him to pretend to be a female roommate for her. Not an _actual _roommate, but when people came to visit (except for Danny, since he had a ghost sense), perhaps a few of those visits Amorpho could be that identity. She'd come up with something about her roommate – like she was a workaholic or something – that would excuse Amorpho from having to be there all the time. She had her doubts about the plan, and it still had a few holes in it, but she was desperate and thought it was worth a try.

His place had that feel of an abandoned suburbia home, as he was rarely here, but she felt that she could leave some sort of message. The landlord of the apartment had told her that no one but her had shown interest in that apartment for months, which meant there was no rush to get the apartment other than that she wanted to move _now_. So, no rush – technically – for Amorpho to come back.

She would have walked in but right before she reached the door it opened to reveal another halfa behind it.

Danny leaned nonchalantly against the door, but the look on his face was an almost angry disapproval and set Danielle on the defensive, bracing for another lecture. Danny, most of the time, could be counted on to be pretty laid back about most things. But when it came to Danielle, he was worse than Jazz when it came to overprotectiveness and "responsibility". Danielle _hated_ it. According to all the stories she'd been hearing, Danny had been even worse than her at sticking to the rules.

She loved her so-called cousin, but for the past few months he'd _really_ been getting on her last nerve.

"What?" she snapped, folding her arms as she floated, glaring at him. "Just _what_ have I done that gives you the right to _look at me like that_? You're not my dad."

He grimaced but didn't break eye contact. "You were planning to ask Amorpho to parade around as your roommate."

Danielle's jaw went slightly slack and Danny chuckled. "Jazz told me what she said when you asked her, and when you didn't come down for lunch…well, it's what I would've done."

The girl wanted to growl as her eyes went downcast, grumbling. "I _hate_ it when you do that."

"Mom and Dad aren't gonna be happy when they find out about this, Danielle," he warned her.

"Yeah, well, they won't be happy to learn that you skimped out on a test for a class you already have a D in," she threatened back, raising an eyebrow at him. "Even if it was to get rid of the Fright Knight."

He paled. "How –"

"It's what I would've done," she mimicked, smirking at Danny while he just glared back. Sibling rivalries were fun. Even if they weren't really siblings. "I heard Mr. Lancer ranting about it during lunch the other day when we beat up Johnny's Shadow. Jeeze, Danny, think you'd cut a break if you actually just told Lancer your secret?"

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "For all I know, Danielle, he'd call Child Protective Services on my parents because he'll think they were experimenting on me. I _don't_ know, so I can't take the chance. In any case – "

"In any case," she interrupted him, "I won't tell if you won't tell. If you tell – " She smiled sweetly. "I'll tell _after_, and they won't remember anything about punishing me when they realize Danny's been ditching _school_ after they told you specifically _not_ to."

He stared at her before chuckling and shaking his head. "You look really creepy when you do that."

"Am I supposed to be offended by that?" She pretended to look indignant.

"No. But don't bother Amorpho, Dani." The girl glared at him for the old nickname but Danny ignored it. "It's lying."

"Oh, because you've never done _that_ before," she said sarcastically, frowning at him, grumpy that another plan had been foiled. She wanted to move! "Because you've never lied to _your_ parents, not about why you were always late to curfew, not about why you were _hurt_ all the time, not about that you were _half dead_, not even about the fact that half of your identity was their freaking _arch enemy_ –"

She stopped in her tracks, the anger dropping from her face when she saw Danny's. It was a dangerous expression, a majority of fury and just a bit of hurt. Her folded arms dropped to her sides as she stopped floating and landed softly on the ground, saying gently, "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

"Yeah," he said stiffly, staring at Danielle in a way that gave her goosebumps. The expression was still on his face, but it was as though the anger weren't directed at her anymore. She got a blank vibe from him and it creeped her out. "It was."

"No Amorpho?" she said dejectedly.

"No Amorpho."

* * *

She went home. She flew ahead of Danny, frustrated beyond belief. Jazz had rejected her invitation, she hadn't come up with any back-up plan, and her shaky first plan had fallen to pieces before she could even try it.

Oh, and she'd hurt Danny as well as made him mad with her big mouth.

_Ugh_.

As soon as she'd entered the house she'd heard the phone ringing and flew over to it to answer. Picking it up, she couldn't help but greet dejectedly. "Fenton residence, Danielle speaking."

"Danielle!" It was the jovial voice of the senior male secretary, Harold, at the apartment complex. "Come on over, I have a surprise for you!"

"What kind of surprise?" Her voice was grumpy. The day did not seem to be promising any _good _surprises, so she was suspicious. Then again, he did seem rather excited.

"Come on over and you'll see," he encouraged.

Danielle sighed. "Sure. I'll see you soon, 'kay?"

"Sure, Danielle." And there was a dial tone in her ear.

* * *

Despite her misgivings, Danielle couldn't help but go. In fact, instead of waiting for a ride, the curiosity got the better of her and she flew there, invisibly. She took her wallet with her just in case. The apartment complex was not far from home and she was there in a few minutes. Turning human again by a dumpster where there were no cameras pointed at her, she walked into the front office.

"Danielle!" Harold greeted her. "Good news! Someone bought the apartment you've been looking at about an hour ago."

"_What_?"

He tilted his head, confused. "What's wrong? You don't have to pay for it."

She felt like she was about to cry from the frustration. She'd saved up for _months_, couldn't find a roommate, and someone had just _bought_ it. "Yeah, and now I can't _live_ in it either!"

Harold shook his head, his white hair reminding Danielle of her own in ghost form. "I've made an understanding with the buyer. The girl is sixteen and I informed her she needed either a roommate or parental permission, and she decided on having you as a roommate."

"Harold!" Danielle cried, exasperated. She calmed herself down before speaking again. She wasn't angry with him, so there was no need to take her frustration out on him. "Jack and Maddie don't know her. How can I possibly convince them?"

"I'm sure the Fentons will be understanding," he tried to soothe her.

Danielle took her wallet out of her sweater pocket and started counting out the money. She handed all of it to him – she'd saved up to cover the first four months' of her part of the rent, so it was two months' worth for the entire thing. "Here. I'm paying for it too."

"Sweetheart, someone already –"

"I'll talk to her."

"Danielle, she's not here yet."

"Then I'll wait." And she went outside.

* * *

Danielle felt like a predator lying in wait as she sat on the bed, having gotten into the room with her intangibility. Man, ghost powers seriously came in handy.

She heard footsteps repeatedly but none seemed to come for her room. She fiddled with the strings of her hoodie, her fingers, and her shoelaces as she waited, silent.

Finally, two pairs of footsteps seemed to move toward her. One pair was less steady than the other, as though one of them was having trouble walking. Danielle froze when she heard the key slowly turn, and she stood up without a sound, putting on her best glare as the door opened, her previous frustration easily recalled.

It was almost amusing how terrified the two girls in front of her looked when she snapped, "Who are you and _why are you here_ in _my_ apartment?"

* * *

Okay, maybe Valerie was less than forth-coming when she told Sam about what was going to happen when she left her life-style...and maybe it's not exactly Danielle's apartment xD

And I understand this is probably, like, the filler chapter of all filler chapters because nothing really happens that you really needed to know. However, I really, really needed practice writing Danielle - this chapter was really difficult for me because of that - as well as get together where she was coming from and her relationship with Danny. I like to think it's a little like Danny and Jazz's relationship because it's the only brother-sister relationship he's observed/experienced.

Anyway, I hope despite this you enjoyed it. Lovez!


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